


The Folder Labeled "Bad Poetry"

by Isaac_Wolfe_Grisham



Category: Original Work, RWBY
Genre: Chapter 3 is a venting poem, Chapters 2 and 3 are my own work, F/F, Freeverse poetry, I'll add more tags/warnings when I add more poetry, Ladybug (RWBY), Mentions of Pyrrha Nikos, Mentions of Yang Xiao Long, Poetry, Post-Volume 3 (RWBY), RWBY - Freeform, This is totally unedited, Trigger warning: Alcoholism, Trigger warning: Death of main characters, Trigger warning: abuse, You Have Been Warned, trigger warning: blood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-22 10:08:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7431904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isaac_Wolfe_Grisham/pseuds/Isaac_Wolfe_Grisham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is just me adding drabbles and short poems written in a moment of inspiration, jotted down before I forgot. It's more a hell of my own creation than it is poetry. It's completely unedited. Various fandoms may be interspersed through this, and I'll add them in the tags as they come along. </p><p>Crossposted on Wattpad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This Little Ladybug I Love

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to hell.

This Little Ladybug I Love  
Flies on the morning air,  
Right past my nose,  
On morning floes,  
Into the garden, there.

Rose petals dance,  
Storms brought by speed,  
Running steps,  
And autumn leaves.  
Red snow churned up,  
Mutants' claws,  
Rake through her hood,  
Catch on her laws.  
Tear through her heart,  
A family lay still,  
As all around,  
Death lay a chill.

Her sisters' arm,  
Her mentors' life,  
A great warrior lost,  
Amidst the strife.

This Little Ladybug I Love,  
Once whole, now broken,  
On her knees,  
A child, amongst a raging battlefield,  
But has seen too much to be but a child.

But,  
There is a hope, a light,  
That only I can see,  
A ruby-colored rose,  
Held out to those in need.

She held onto her childhood ambiitions,  
Her dreams of hunting Grimm,  
Of chasing monsters and protecting those she loved.

Her first words spoken,  
To not a person,  
But a monster in plain sight,  
Or, at least,  
I thought so then.

"What's it about? Your book?"  
She said, this girl,  
Filled with innocent light, and yet,  
Despite her raising,  
Despite where she had lived,  
She had her head held high,  
As though this world was not as dark as it seemed,  
As though there was still good being done,  
Improvement being made.

She told me of fairy tales,  
Recited by her bedside,  
Her dreams of being a huntress,  
Her excitement,  
A young girl wanting to be like the heroes in the books.

"That's very ambitious for a child,"  
I had said, an unknown amusement laced in my words,  
"But sadly, life isn't a fairy tale,"  
She had only smiled, shy, reluctant,  
"Well, that's why we're here, isn't it?"

And now, as she kneels on the bloodied ground,  
Thousands of Grimm lay dead around her,  
Hundreds more human remains,  
Caused by a war that was never supposed to be theirs'. 

Never supposed to be hers'.

The Little Ladybug I Love,  
Legs torn off,  
Wings shredded,  
Bloodied,  
Luck spent on staying alive,  
Still looks to the smokescreen sky,  
Spreads her wings,  
And still, she flies.


	2. Silent Mouth, Screaming Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original work. It won't let me add it in as my own, so I guess it's going under the RWBY tag.

Mouth glued shut,  
Words left unspoken,  
Lips sewn,  
A needle passing through,  
Stealing my words,  
And sealing my thoughts.

Black heart,  
Proud, Defiant,  
Silent.  
Wordlessly shouting.  
Steel beams,  
Yokes,  
Immovable burdens,  
Lay heavy on shoulders not meant to carry,  
But endure.

Quiet screams.  
Pain, suffering,  
Under the words of others.  
Ever silent.

Music,  
Dripping from skilled fingers,  
Poetry to a tune,  
Notes filled with heartbreak.  
An escape.  
A message.

Lyrics meant to tell,  
To speak,  
Where their own words fail,  
When they cannot speak for the screams,  
The yells,  
Both of them,  
And the people around them.

Tears,  
Saved for private times,  
Unable to hold back,  
As words are thrown onto a page,  
Ink onto a canvas.

Unable to speak,  
A writer that cannot talk,  
Though their profession says they must.  
Needles through flesh,   
Threading shut,  
Stealing my words,  
Sealing my thoughts.


	3. Amber Liquid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my life. Vent poem.

Amber Liquid,   
Sipped from a black glass.

Screams,  
Punishment doled on an unsuspecting child,  
As an irrational adult,  
Rage fueled by drink,  
Beats his offspring for a crime they did not commit.

Scarred mind,  
Broken body,  
Bloody skin,  
Caused by a man who is no longer human.

Every year,  
Celebrations,   
Of a child's birth,   
Their father joining in,  
Insisting that,  
Despite the previous years,  
He would not let the liquid fire consume him.

And every year,  
The Promise breaks,  
Inhibition snapped,  
Slaps and punches thrown at an unknowing child,  
Who knows not what ails their father so.

And,   
When they do learn,  
As children do,  
That his liquid courage is also his undoing,  
That their father,  
Once held close and dear,  
Is now a monster,  
No longer human,  
Yet wears a human skin.

So,  
The child,  
Now aware,  
Runs.  
Runs as far as they can,  
Refuses to celebrate their years alive,  
Trading their childish ignorance for the cloak and dagger,  
A guise of an adult,  
Tries to escape their bloody past,  
Runs from their father as he,  
As he has always done,  
Pulls the familiar bottles from the fridge,  
Fills a glass,  
And insists that he is celebrating.


	4. Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Venting poem. This is hell incarnate.

Am I never good enough for you, mother?  
Am I always doing things wrong, Father?

I take care of them,  
Your children who you have no time for,  
Despite the hours you spend,  
Divulging in poison.

When you, yourself, cannot,  
Too full of drink to care,  
Or to control yourself.

And yet,  
You find it in yourself,  
When your image,  
Your delicately constructed facade,  
Is put at risk,  
To sober up enough to salvage it.  
To be calm, however briefly,  
So you can keep the curtain shut and prying eyes away  
From your misdoings and misgivings.

Even as the alcohol outnumbers the food,  
Even as your children go hungry,  
More and more often,  
You do not give them a second glance,  
Even as you pull another bottle from the fridge.

Your son,  
Who you claim is no more your son as your other children,  
Sits and wails for freedom,  
And to end the pain he suffers at your hands,  
Hands that he never thought should hurt or threaten,  
But heal.

As he goes silent under his undeserved beatings,  
Guilty of nothing more than wanting to make you proud.

And, Mother,  
When you see the monstrosity you have been wed to,  
What do you think?  
Are you happy with the chaos?  
The monster he has made of your children,  
And of himself?

And yet you fund his habit,  
In your own quest to forget,  
Expensive wines and champagnes,  
Bought and consumed,  
As you, yourself,  
Try and forget his transgressions.

Finally,  
As your son calls for death,  
Tired and weary of the beatings he can't fathom,  
You find him asleep,  
In his bed with black sheets,  
Stained darker by the blood dripping,  
And half-dissolved pills on his floor.

He has had enough.

Tell me,  
Mother,  
Father,  
As you bury your child,  
What do you think?  
Do you put away the drink?  
Mourn the loss of your son?  
Or do you fall farther,  
Take out your unspent wrath on the children in your care,  
Because your scapegoat is no longer there for you to use?  
Because the child you bore,  
Created,  
Is no longer here for you to beat for doing nothing wrong?

Tell me,  
Would you care?  
Or would you let him be buried without a word?  
No final decree,  
Or a hymn for the deceased.

No tears wasted on the outcast.

Tell me,  
What would you think?


End file.
